


Just A Dash of Something Sweet

by DawnOfTomorrow



Series: Sugar Me Good [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domesticity, Fluff, M/M, One Shot Collection, different POVs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-09 14:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17408987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnOfTomorrow/pseuds/DawnOfTomorrow
Summary: A collection of one-shots and mini-fics from my Reverse Sugar Daddy AU.These are snippets that either fit into the timeline of the original two stories, or bits that happen afterwards, from various POVs. There's lot's of fluff, some sappiness and more of Victor being extra because duh!If you have any ideas for moments or scenes you'd like me to write about, let me know and I'll see what I can do! :-)





	1. A Barkin' Good Time

Yuuri hadn’t exactly expected the gifts to STOP after he and Victor officially got together, but as he stared in horror at the box in front of him, he really had to question the man’s sanity. What was he THINKING?

Very, very carefully, he pulled the poodle puppy from its fabric-lined container. He should have known something was up when a different courier than usual had handed him an unsealed box, the lids only flapped shut. Now that he thought about it, the man HAD been wearing a pet rescue jacket.

Clearly, the little dog hadn’t suffered too much from his trip… he was happily wagging his tail and licking Yuuri’s cheek. Well, while the dog hadn’t suffered, the man who’d bought him was about to. Carefully cuddling the pup, Yuuri drew out his phone and dialled his lover.

Victor, who had clearly been waiting for the call, picked up on the first ring.

“Hi Yuuri! Did you get my gift? I thought since you’ll be without me for a while, you might get lonely. Do you like him? He doesn’t have a name yet but you could always name him after m-”

“Vitya.” He interrupted, the Russian shutting up immediately. For a second anyway.

“Don’t you… like him, Yuuri? I thought you would.” “Vitya…” He tried again, carefully setting the puppy down.

“I love him. He’s amazing. It’s just… my landlord doesn’t allow any pets. I can’t keep him here.” The man on the other end of the phone just laughed.

“Oh, is that all? You had me worried! That issue is easily solved, my love.” Watching, in amusement, as the as of yet nameless puppy sniffed a potted plant, Yuuri waited for Victor to explain himself.

“All you have to do is move into a new place!” That… was indeed a sensible solution. He could afford renting something a little better, really. He made enough money with his work at the studio and occasionally the hospital.

“I suppose if I find a nice place, I can do that. It would have to be close to a park and close to the studio…” He trailed off, following the poodle as it went to investigate the bathroom.

“Oh, that’s easy! If you want, I can start looking straight away!” He chuckled softly – of course Victor, his amazing Victor, would want to help him find a place.

“I can look for my own apartment, you know.” “Oh, an apartment? I was more thinking a house.” He sighed. “Nice idea, but a bit too pricy.” This time Victor sighed.

“Don’t be silly, Yuuri, when Makkachin and I come to stay with you, you’ll need the space!” He smiled to himself – in season, Victor had to stay in St. Petersburg to train with Yakov, but the rest of the year… well, Detroit had skating rinks too.

“I suppose then I’ll have to look at cheap houses in the area…” He conceded, secretly not minding at all.

Victor hummed. “I’ve found a good one already! Three bedrooms, small garden, walking distance from the studio.” “Are you… are you looking already? How much is that one?” His lover didn’t respond, which Yuuri had learned usually meant ‘a lot’.

“Vitya, how much?” “Doesn’t matter, you’re not the one paying. How is the little fluffball? He’s vaccinated, microchipped and health-checked. All he needs is a name.”

Picking up the poodle, Yuuri switched to video call, pleased to see his lover on the couch in his living room, both Makkachin and his laptop precariously perched on his long legs. “He’s amazing, see?”

“Aw, I’m sure Makkachin is going to LOVE him!” Yuuri smiled fondly, an expression only ever brought forth by Victor. There was nothing quite like seeing his lover happy, or excited… or in bed. He sighed at the thousands of miles between them.

“Not as much as I love you. I can’t wait to show you again when you visit next month.”

Through a stroke of luck, Victor had been assigned Skate America again… and so he would be staying with Yuuri for a few weeks. It was an excuse, of course, but neither of them really cared if it meant seeing the other a little bit longer.

“Yeah, me too.” Victor’s voice was low, a little rough, arousal clear on his face. Yuuri knew he looked the same. Setting the dog down, he focused more on his lover, the way the afternoon light shone onto his hair, the way a pink flush revealed he really did miss Yuuri as much as Yuuri missed him.

Then it changed – Victor’s expression melted into a happy, sappy smile, one of excitement and mischief.

Yuuri loved that smile.

“Well, since I’ll be coming soon, you’ll have to move quickly, won’t you? No time to waste in finding a place! Now shush darling, while I go and buy you a house.”

The fondness in his heart for Victor’s cute expressions lasted for a few moments longer before absolute shock replaced it.

“Victor? Did… you… Did you just say… BUY?”

Victor hung up the phone and somewhere behind him, a crash sounded, followed by the bark of a poodle.


	2. Saccharine Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris has been with Victor through it all - he knows what a gay mess his friend is for Yuuri Katsuki... and he knows the kind of man Yuuri is, too.
> 
> Or does he? 
> 
> Chris realises he got it all backwards at that banquet.

Chris was no stranger to love, of course. He’d been in love, had been loved, had had unrequited feelings, the works. Love was just part of life. Really, it was more about sex for him – he wanted to enjoy his youth before settling down with a hottie at some point.

For the longest time, his friend Victor – both of them skating prodigies – had been the same.

Then… then, Detroit had happened. Victor had gone on exchange there, for a year, and he’d HATED it. In typical Victor fashion, he often paid or charmed his way into clubs despite his age, for a few easy distractions. Chris approved – he’d done that a few times himself.

He did NOT approve of Victor picking up older men there, and he’d made his disappointment clear when Victor told him the next morning. By then it was too late though. He hadn’t known then, of course, hadn’t known SO many things.

Victor had said he’d had the best night of his life and that he HADN’T slept with the older man. As far as Chris was concerned, a bit of dancing and drinking would do his skating-focused friend good.

Except… except then Victor had started to wax poetic about the man – Yuuri. He’d started saying how infatuated he was and how desperately he wanted him. Well, Chris had been happy to indulge him at first. Teenage crushes weren’t like Victor, he wanted him to enjoy it.

On a visit to Detroit, he’d actually helped him take some sexy photos – DAMN good work if he dared say so himself. After some coaxing, Victor had shown him pictures of Yuuri too and damn, he’d sort of understood? At least he’d thought he had… but then, it didn’t stop.

Victor kept going, kept digging himself deeper and deeper, falling in love for real… all the while lying. Chris supported him as best as he could but what COULD he do, really?

He’d been there to pick up the pieces when Victor’s heart – and who had known it would be so delicate, so fragile – had shattered into pieces.

He’d expected it to stop then, or at least soon after.

It had not.

Yes, Victor had begun to heal, eventually, but he’d never gotten over Yuuri, not the way he needed to. It became part of his personality almost, that love of his.

When five years after the incident, he’d gotten a DESPERATE phone call in the middle of the night, Victor nearly hyperventilating, telling him Yuuri had BEEN there, had come to see him, finally, Chris had been… angry.

He had assumed that Yuuri was playing Victor, and what else could it be? Showing up after five years, not sticking around, giving him hope and crushing it under his feet. He hadn’t said a word though because the last time Chris had made his thoughts about Yuuri known, Victor had had a complete fit and not spoken to him for nearly a month.

Silently, he prepared himself for picking up the pieces when Victor’s only barely-mended heart would shatter again.

When Victor invited him to the Grand Prix final and he actually came, Chris had every intention of scaring the man off, of telling him to get lost… and then he met Yuuri Katsuki for the first time.

He was polite. Friendly.

It wasn’t that that changed Chris’ mind, no, he knew Victor had good taste.

It was the way Yuuri LOOKED at Victor when his friend was busy. He knew the look, knew it intimately – he’d seen Victor stare at pictures of Yuuri that way, for HALF A DECADE. He had seen the shameful Yuuri Katsuki corner in Victor's flat, a wall practically plastered with professionally printed poster versions of pictures of Yuuri. Going by the looks, Yuuri clearly felt as strongly about Victor as the other did about him and a very mean part of him wanted to ask if Yuuri kept posters of Victor too. He'd bet his skates on the fact that he did.

The only question was though, why didn’t Yuuri do anything about their obvious mutual attraction?

He got his answer a little later, but first, he learned something MUCH more important, and dangerous to his sanity.

Katsuki Yuuri knew how to dance.

When Victor had told him he’d fallen in love with Yuuri because of how he danced, he’d shrugged. He knew plenty of good dancers, he enjoyed it, but it was just… dancing. Then he’d danced with Yuuri. At first, it had just been nice, the kind of nice he was used to… but then the shorter man had offered him a show and Chris had been curious…

By the time Yuuri let him go he felt like his legs might give out any minute and he UNDERSTOOD with a startling clarity how teenage Victor had been swept away so easily. Chris wasn’t entirely sure he would turn the man down if he invited him to his bed – not that he expected Yuuri to do that, especially not given how much the man clearly loved Victor. But still...

His impression of Yuuri had been… wrong, clearly.

As much as dancing with Yuuri have been great, however, Victor’s reaction to him doing so… wasn’t. His friend practically spat fire, angry, jealous, while an oblivious Yuuri danced with just about everyone else at the banquet. Chris had never seen Victor be jealous before, was surprised by the fierce possessiveness of the otherwise mostly passively-pining man. He'd seen him be quietly accepting of the fact that Yuuri might have someone without much more than a defeated sigh - a far cry from the tongue-lashing he was getting. It was… not refreshing as such, but interesting.

Then he saw Yuuri dance with Victor and he realised that he STILL hadn’t understood anything about those two men because clearly, the way Yuuri had danced with him had barely been a warm-up for him. For the better part of an hour, he – and half the room – watched, completely mesmerised as the two stunningly beautiful men moved together, flowing as if they had been made for it, waited for it all their lives.

Chris knew Victor had indeed been waiting for a long time. He never really believed in nonsense like ‘true love’ or fate… but watching Yuuri dip Victor, watching his control-freak friend give in and luxuriate in it, he wondered if maybe, just maybe there was something to it after all.

* * *

Naturally, when Yuuri invited him to his room, he HAD to go – he was curious after all. It never occurred to him how it might look, him leaving with Yuuri like that. He enjoyed his talk with the man… right up until Victor stormed in and assumed… well, Chris wasn’t one to stick around for drama like that, so he beelined away… listening at the door just long enough to make sure that the noises he heard were kissing and not yelling.

He went back to his room – the banquet had lost its appeal and he knew it was only a question of time before his friend would text him about how it had gone.

Stretching out on his bed, he fondly remembered the very first text Victor had sent him, all of those years ago, the morning after he met Yuuri.

‘Chris, help me, I’M SO GAY???’ He’d laughed, at the time, because it was such a VICTOR thing to say… He wondered what sort of text he’d get the next day, after all, Victor as far as he knew, hadn't left Yuuri's suite.

* * *

 

Chris woke up to a text eerily similar to that very first one and wondered if Victor remembered that first text too – probably not. Victor’s memory when it came to things not directly related to Yuuri Katsuki was absolutely terrible.

‘Chris, I’m SO gay and I am SO going to marry this man someday.”

He texted back ‘Go get em, tiger!’ and rolled over to get some more sleep before his flight back home later. If he secretly made plans to call that cute lawyer that had been making doe-eyes at him for a few months, well, nobody needed to know that. He wondered, dimly, if the lawyer knew how to dance, and if not, if Yuuri could teach him or if Victor would kill him for suggesting it.

He fell asleep with a smile.


	3. Home-baked Sweets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor wants to do something for Yuuri... for once, neither Chris nor Phichit can help. Really, they just made it worse for poor Victor. Thankfully, Yuuri is there to save the day! Or the pantry

Victor was driving himself mad. He wanted, no, NEEDED to get his boyfriend a gift to show his appreciation for the way the man put up with his nonsense all the time. This gift though, it needed to be special. He could buy anything he wanted, of course, but he knew it still made Yuuri uncomfortable to receive expensive things and Victor Nikiforov would die before buying something CHEAP, so that put him in a rather awkward position.

Essentially, it meant he couldn’t very well buy him anything at all. That left him with… well, he could do something for Yuuri, or he could MAKE something for Yuuri. His lover flustered when Victor did things for him though, like when he walked the dogs when Yuuri came home from the studio, or even if it was just something like a massage after a tiring practice – not that Victor didn’t get a rise out of that anyway and it usually led to sex. Fun but not what he was looking for here.

So, that left him with one option: He needed to... make something for Yuuri, and it had to be special.

That was a problem.

He had never made anything in his life that wasn't a routine.

Skating he was good at. He’d created dozens of routines for Yuuri, thinking of him, missing him, remembering him and he knew his boyfriend appreciated them all, now that he finally readily accepted that they had been for him. Tangible things though… He dimly remembered pasta art in pre-school and that was about it.

The only thing his hands were good for outside of skating was, oddly enough, Yuuri. Touching him still felt like a dream sometimes, one he didn’t want to wake up from. He could touch him every day – every morning, every evening, even at night if he woke up and reached out, and he had gotten good at it. They knew each other so well, knew where to touch and how to hold the other. It was perfection... and still not helping his current predicament.

Yuuri still talked in his sleep like he had five and a half years ago, but Victor hadn’t had to sneak out of his bed like a thief in a VERY long time. He liked being in Yuuri’s bed, of course, but as much as letting the older man take him apart and put him back together was fun, just being allowed to sleep next to his lover and wake up to black lashes on slightly tanned skin, followed by squinted hazel eyes and a voice rough from sleep asking if he knew what damn time it was felt… energising.

He slept better now, and found it easier to motivate himself to do things he didn’t particularly enjoy. That… had been a problem, before. When he had been younger. Before Yuuri and when they were apart.

Now… once again, it was because Yuuri was there for him, with him, by his side. At the moment, wrapped tightly around his back. He shook off the thoughts because they were STILL not helping him, much as they were lovely.

Victor NEEDED to make something for Yuuri, and he had no idea what. He’d already asked Chris for advice – Chris, who was in a relationship for the first time in his life, and actually happy that way – and had only received hysterical laughter and the suggestion to put on a maid costume and call Yuuri ‘master’ as a gift.

He hadn’t deigned to respond, not only because the advice wasn’t helpful, but also because they sort of already had tried that. Well, they had tried, but neither of them had been able to keep even a remotely straight face and instead of sex, they’d ended up sitting on the floor, Victor still in the overly short maid dress, and had watched something on TV.

There had still been sex of course, later that night, but without the stupid costume.

Victor was getting distracted again – he needed an idea. Peering over his shoulder, he saw that Yuuri was dead asleep and reached for the man’s phone. He was aware he was being a bit rude, but he needed help, and Yuuri obviously couldn’t know that Victor couldn’t think of anything to give him on his own. How embarrassing was that? They’d known each other for years, Victor giving him gifts was how their relationship had started, even.

He tapped in the code to Yuuri’s phone – 2512, Victor’s birthday – and quickly navigated to messages, copying and texting himself Phichit’s number. Who better to help than Yuuri’s long-time friend?

Victor swapped the phone for his own and quickly texted the newly arrived number.

‘Hi Phichit, this is Victor. Sorry to message like this, but I need some advice. I want to give Yuuri a gift, but it has to be special. I want to make him something but… what?’

The other man replied less than five minutes later, despite the early hour.

‘Hey, Victor! Special, huh? I’d suggest something kinky but I know Yuuri and you’ve probably done everything. I’d suggest something romantic but I’ve seen the gifts you give him, so you’re covered there as well. Yuuri doesn’t like grand gestures… how about you cook something?’

Ignoring the fission of jealousy that shot through him at the mention of Phichit knowing how kinky Yuuri was – it was TRUE, and he loved it, but didn’t want to imagine why Phichit knew – he focused on the actual suggestion. Cooking… he didn’t cook. He paid other people to cook for him.

Yuuri had never seen him pick up and use anything that wasn’t cutlery or a plate in a kitchen. Embarrassingly, he’d once asked Yuuri why there was an awkwardly shaped razor in the drawer until Yuuri, dissolving into hysterical laughter, had told him it was a potato peeler and demonstrated. Yuuri cooked of course, the man was perfect after all. He nuzzled closer to his lover, pleased when his hold on him tightened even in his sleep.

The idea was perfect. He immediately pulled up a website with Russian recipes – if he was going to cook, he was going to make something traditional that Yuuri hadn’t had before, just in case it didn’t taste the way it was supposed to - a distinct possibility.

His plan took shape. 

* * *

Sadly, the food he had tried to cook, did not. Staring in disdain at the soggy piece of charcoal that had once been beef, he admitted to himself that maybe he should have taken the temperature and cooking time instructions a bit more seriously instead of just turning on the oven, chucking in the meat and going off to take a bath.

Throwing out his measly attempt, he quickly aired out the room, ordered take-out and pretended nothing at all happened when Yuuri got home not much later. Still, Victor wasn’t going to be defeated by one measly set-back.

He wasn’t a two-time Olympic champion for nothing. 

* * *

Skating, he decided, had to be the easiest thing in the world because cooking was clearly magic. He could barely stand to look at the gooey mess that had been supposed to be soup. How did it even end up so… slimy? It was supposed to be watery. He squinted at the instructions on his phone and found his mistake – instead of adding stock… he’d added gelatine?. How had he even managed that? Those two had nothing in common. He couldn't even remember what he had been thinking at the time - something to do with Yuuri's thighs, probably. Those thoughts made him trip in the rink even on his best days.

Once again, he ended up clearing away his mess. It was still too soon to give up though – Yuuri deserved nothing but the best. 

* * *

 

Three weeks and six more attempted fails later, he was frustrated beyond belief. Victor Nikiforov did NOT give up. He just didn’t. It wasn’t his style. With cooking though… he was running out of recipes to try, quite frankly.

Coming home early from training yet again, he was prepared for another attempt – his last one. Beef Stroganoff. According to Yura, even ‘an idiot like him’ could manage it.

He was all prepared to get cooking too… except the kitchen was occupied.

He blinked at Yuuri, trying to understand why the other man was standing in said kitchen instead of being at work where he was supposed to be… and was he wearing a yellow apron with little rubber ducks printed all over them? It was almost disturbingly adorable when coupled with Yuuri's smile.

“Yuuri?” He asked, confused. “Welcome home Vitya. Good timing, I’ve already finished the prep.” He tossed Victor another apron – blue, with poodles, he had to smile at the reference to that gifted phone case – and turned towards the counter.

“Prep? For?” He pulled on the apron, waiting for an explanation. “You and I are going to bake together. We are going to make cupcakes, then we are going to decorate them and then we are going to violate everything on our approved diet plans by eating way too many of them all at once.”

That sounded… like heaven, actually. He felt the stress melting off him readily as he stepped up to Yuuri, hugging him from behind. He loved the way they fit together even now.

“What brought this on then? Why are you home this early anyway?” “Ah, I cancelled my last two classes so we could do this together.” Victor nearly swooned at how considerate his Yuuri was. He pressed a kiss to the back of his head, eagerly drinking in the giggle it got him.

“And what made you decide to just… bake? You never bake.” Yuuri stiffened in his arms before giving a deep sigh and wriggling around until they were pressed chest to chest, apron to apron.

“And you never cook. Didn’t stop you from burning through a VERY disturbing selection of ingredients though, did it?”

Victor froze.

“You… know? But how, I cleaned up?” Yuuri’s lips twitched into an amused smile. “Yes, yes you did. Even did the dishes, I was very impressed. Unfortunately, you forgot to replace what you used. What in the WORLD did you do with four packs of gelatine?”

Thoroughly humiliated, Victor let his eyes slip closed. “I was making soup.” “You were… soup? Why not order some if you wanted soup?” Eyes snapping open again, he glared at his lover. “I didn’t want soup at all! It was supposed to be for you!”

“Me?”

“Obviously! You’re always so… considerate, sweet, perfect. I know I buy you things, but I actually wanted to MAKE something for you for once! I thought cooking… but I just couldn’t get ANYTHING right!”

Yuuri laughed but the sound was fond rather than insulting.

“Oh Vitya, you don’t have to do anything for me. Just being yourself is enough. I do things for you because I want to, and if I had the money, I’d buy you just as many things.” Victor pouted. “You keep refusing my credit cards.” “That’s your money, not mine, besides you’d just be buying yourself gifts then. No, I like it this way.”

“Yuuuuri! This was supposed to be me cooking for you… and now you set up everything we need for baking… for me?” His lover shrugged. “Well, yes. I thought it might be fun. I, uh, actually didn’t realise you were cooking not baking. You used all the sugar.”

“I was looking for flour!” “You used an entire bottle of vanilla syrup.” “That was supposed to be balsamico.” He saw the barely suppressed laughter as Yuuri shook with it. He groaned in fake pain.

“I’m a disaster in the kitchen. Hopeless.” “No, you’re not. Come on, I’ll show you how to bake cupcakes at the very least.” This time Victor really did swoon a little. “Go wash your hands, Vitya, so we can get started.”

Fond as always of Yuuri being bossy, he immediately went to do as instructed, happily humming to himself. Sure, his attempt to surprise Yuuri had failed and he’d made a bit of a fool of himself… but if it meant seeing Yuuri use that single-minded focus he sometimes had dancing while wearing a cute apron, he could probably live with it.

“Victor?”

“Hm?” He looked over his shoulder at Yuuri who was casually leaning against the side of the fridge, amusement still obvious in his features. Victor felt like the luckiest man alive.

“If you work hard and they come out well, I’ll make it worth your while.”

Scratch that, he WAS the luckiest man in the world, no doubt about it. He scrambled over to Yuuri and kissed him, deeply, just to show how much he appreciated the other man.

It took them a while to get started on the baking, but the end result was absolutely delicious… and the cupcakes turned out pretty well too. Yuuri insisted Victor did all the hard work, Victor insisted Yuuri was just too talented for words.

All in all, Victor wasn’t too upset with how his efforts had turned out. 

* * *

“Hm, I wonder if I should try my hand at painting? Sculpting maybe? I’m sure I can think of something to use as an inspiration.” He mused out loud, eyes raking up and down the naked backside of his lover – Yuuri was in the middle of picking up a hastily discarded apron from where it had landed on the floor of their bedroom and had bent at the hip, his incredible legs perfectly straight, ass perky as always.

He turned around with a mildly alarmed expression.

“Vitya… no!”


	4. Everybody Has A Sweet Tooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yurio has to deal with Victor pining before and after they get together, and it gets SO MUCH WORSE after Barcelona.

Yuri Plisetsky had recently taken up meditating and he was NOT proud of it. No proud Russian man (or teen) should have to meditate just because someone at his rink was being gross as hell. Now, Yuri was no stranger to dealing with Victor, he really wasn’t. The other man had been skating at the rink before he had, after all, and for all that he was a weirdo, it had been fine. At first.

Until Detroit. The better part of a year, Victor had been there on exchange and when he’d come back, he’d completely lost his mind. At first, he’d just been depressed. Fine.

Georgi had told him he’d been dumped and okay, Yuri cut him some slack for that… but then, it just wouldn’t stop? Three months in, Yuri knew more about the other Yuuri (the BETTER Yuri, and how dare Victor even say that?) than he did about Victor himself after years of shared rinktime.

He had caught Victor in the locker room once after practice and had seen that the older man HAD A POSTER OF THE OTHER YUURI IN HIS LOCKER. He’d considered telling Yakov, of course, but that would mean acknowledging what he’d seen to another human being and that wasn’t about to happen. He also pretended the man WASN'T Victor's wallpaper every time he saw his phone because the photo and the fur-throw in it were a public safety hazard.

A year or so later, he’d grudgingly learned to accept that some days it was safe to ask Victor for tips on his quads, and some days the other Russian would just pout and say something like ‘If you had MY Yuuri’s thighs, you could do it’.

That was just the way it was. Victor was a genius, and those apparently got to be eccentric idiots.

Then… Then the Grand Prix in Barcelona had happened. Dear GOD.

He’d met the Japanese Yuuri there and had snarled at him instantly – years of rage built up from not being able to yell at Victor (he'd have just laughed) for being a crazy bastard had bubbled over… and then the older man – he could have been his FATHER, for god’s sake, what was Victor thinking – had… just…

No, Yuri didn’t think about that banquet anymore, or about the way the older man had danced. With him. Against him. No, he never thought about it. Definitely not.

Either way though, he’d assumed it would get BETTER when a nearly sobbing Georgi had told him Victor had gotten together with the Japanese man the morning after the banquet. Surely it had to? His hope had lasted a whole five hours - until they were stuck in a plane together later that day.

Apparently five years of pathetic pining had permanently damaged his brain. Victor post-banquet was somehow worse… which was why sometimes, he joined Mila in her post-practice meditation now. He’d angrily thrown no less than THREE of his phones and broken them, and his grandpa refused to buy him any more until he learned to control his anger.

In his defence, it was all Victor’s fault. Who wouldn't throw stuff when they had to deal with him like that? The man was constantly taking selfies, asking others to film him skating, him jumping to send it to the other, sometimes even video calling that imposter Yuuri during practice hours.

What was worse was that everyone at the rink LOVED him. Victor, obviously, but both Mila and Georgi liked him and even Yakov always waited a few minutes before yelling at Victor to put his phone away. At least, before, Victor had only whined about missing Yuuri – now he was constantly talking about every single thing he loved about him, which, according to Victor, was everything except for his clothes. Yuri knew the other man's SKIN TYPE for god's sake, and he didn't even know his own, that was how much Victor gushed.

Sure, the other Yuuri wasn’t the worst person – he’d sent him some pretty sick tiger-print jackets once and always greeted him when he came across Victor in a call which was all the freaking time – but the way Victor sung his praises, you’d think he was the second coming of Christ.

Angrily clenching his fist around the phone in his pocket, he fought the urge to chuck it at stupid Victor’s head because he KNEW the laugh that was echoing around the rink at the moment – Yuuri had either called or sent a photo, and almost certainly, that poodle Victor had given the other man was involved somehow. He hated that he even knew that.

Yuri didn’t know why someone would want a dog if they could have a cat, but THAT wasn’t even the problem – it was the fact that he knew what gifts Victor had given him at all. He knew about the other man’s dentist appointment, for god’s sake, because Victor had whined about it for three days straight. Japanese Yuuri apparently didn’t mind it but VICTOR had been so worried for him…

Taking a deep breath, he uncurled his fingers from the phone.

So he knew things he didn’t want to know. Fine. So Victor was the most annoying person on the planet. Fine. So maybe every once in a while he allowed himself to think that their relationship was a little bit swee-

“Hey, Yura, come look at this! Yuuri sent me a photo of Vicchan asleep!” He half-turned, already snarling. So close. “What the hell is a Vicchan?” Victor’s laugh bubbled across the room. “Oh, Yura! It’s short for Victor-chan! He named his puppy after me! Isn’t it the sweetest thing?”

There was nothing for it, he decided – he was going to have to kill Victor in a skating ‘accident’.

“You’re disgusting, old man!” He yelled because he needed plausible deniability when he skated over Victor’s stupid head later.

“Yuuri says hi, by the way!” Victor called back as if he hadn’t heard a word Yuri had said. He probably hadn’t. “He wants to know how your skating is going. What should I tell him?” Yuri snarled harder.

“Tell him I’m going to destroy you so much this year, you won’t even WANT to keep doing that disgusting mushy stuff with him because you’ll be so busy crying into your skates!” Victor just laughed and goddamnit, even meditation wasn’t going to help him this time.

“Yuuri says good luck and that he’ll make you katsudon if you win!”

Of course, he did – he would, wouldn’t he? Yuri felt his shoulders sag in defeat. “Tell him I want extra pork cutlet this time!” He called back because he WOULD defeat Victor dammit, and katsudon was delicious.


	5. The Sweetest Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor sees Yuuri holding a baby and has VERY GAY feelings.

They’d been out for lunch together, Yuuri and him. It had been lovely – Hasetsu always was. It had been several months since their first visit when Victor had met Yuuri’s family and a few… hiccups aside, they had gotten on splendidly.

When he’d heard about the cherry blossom trees in spring, he’d dragged Yuuri right back for another visit, desperate to see the spectacle himself. It was amazing, he had to admit, as was Hasetsu. Victor genuinely liked Yuuri’s family, his friends.

Of course, one of those friends was also the reason he was in the middle of a stroke. It had to be a stroke, there was no other reason for him to be leaning against a tree, wheezing for breath as he watched the scene before him.

Yuuri was standing a few feet away, next to his childhood friend Yuuko. Lovely girl, she was actually Victor’s fan and he’d been delighted to hear that her three triplets – a little younger than Yura still – had been inspired by HIM to become skaters as well.

No, it wasn’t those triplets that were responsible for what he was sure was his fast approaching end. It was her OTHER child. The toddler was about to turn two, he knew, and for some reason, some sweet, hellish reason, Yuuri was holding her.

Not just holding, rocking her in his arms, smiling down at her as if she was the most amazing thing in the world. He drew another shuddering breath and god, what was wrong with him, he was 22, surely he could handle the sight of his lover with a child?

…except then Yuuri cooed at the baby and he sagged against the tree entirely, hoping it would stop him from collapsing. He’d always felt completely ambivalent towards babies. Sure, they were cute but they were also loud and messy and he’d never particularly wanted any himself.

Now it was all he could think about.

Yuuri holding not just a child but THEIR child. They could adopt – Russian, Japanese, American, he didn’t mind. Images flickered through his mind – Yuuri teaching him how to change a diaper because surely his perfect lover knew how to do that.

Yuuri rocking a baby – their baby – to sleep, softly singing a lullaby. He clutched his chest. Yuuri carefully helping a toddler waddle through the dance studio and calling it his first routine, Victor there, cheering them on.

Both of them asleep, the baby between them, trading loving gazes over the softly snoring baby.

Yuuri laughingly throwing the toddler in the air and catching him again, Victor doing the same and getting scolded for it because Yuuri would DEFINITELY do that… he couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted something so badly.

Then, Yuuri looked up from Yuuko’s toddler, his eyes meeting him halfway across the little plaza they were in, loving honey eyes meeting his own because somehow Yuuri always knew where he was and Victor knew that he’d been caught – no doubt, everything he had been thinking was written on his face?

He got his answer when Yuuri bent his head and pressed a kiss to Yuuko’s daughter’s hair. Yuuri knew. Somehow the other man knew what he was doing to Victor. Sure, leaning against a tree clutching his shirt wasn’t the subtlest of situations to be in but how did Yuuri always know? It wasn’t fair.

Gulping softly, he made his way over to them, weakly waving at Yuuko as he approached.

Suspicion confirmed – the sight was even more deadly up close.

“Victor, do you want to try holding her?” Yuuri offered and he reached for the bundle of blankets, unsure how to hold her properly.

But oh, of course, Yuuri easily adjusted his grip so that she was safely cradled in his arms instead of being precariously perched on his forearm. He gently rocked the girl – she hadn’t even woken up. He only glanced up briefly when Yuuko said something in Japanese – his grasp of the language wasn’t good enough to understand, unfortunately.

Yuuri stepped over to her though, and Victor panicked a little – what if he did something wrong? He glanced down at the baby – it seemed content enough. That was… something, at least. Rocking it gently, he tried to mimic what he’d seen Yuuri do.

When Yuuko took her back after a few more moments and thanked him for the help, he was mostly relieved and a little more in awe of parents – how had Yuuko handled it when the three triplets had been babies?

A pair of arms wrapped around his middle, pressed him back against Yuuri’s chest. For all that he was taller now, it always made him feel safe, protected even, when Yuuri held him like that… except, oh, his lips ghosted over Victor’s throat and suddenly he felt something else entirely.

Yuuri’s voice was a low purr in his ear when he spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look as gorgeous as you did holding Salchow.” He whined quietly. “I can’t believe she named her that.” Yuuri hummed, the vibrations rumbling against Victor’s back. “No, me neither. What would… if we had one, what would you name her?”

“Him.” He answered reflexively. “Him?” “I’d… I’d want a son, I think?” He explained, feeling a bit silly – in his fantasy, it had been a boy, for some reason, but then, he could just as well see them with two... “So you’ve thought about it?”

He took a deep breath. “Not until I saw you holding Salchow.” He answered, truthfully. “Mh… Do you… want kids?” He sensed the older man’s apprehension and pressed into his embrace more. “Maybe. With you.”

Yuuri pressed a soft kiss against the column of his neck.

“You’re absolutely perfect, Vitya.” He mumbled, making Victor positively giddy with love. “Shall we… do you want to go home, Yuuri?” The familiar sensation of a playful growl from Yuuri rumbled behind him.

He practically stumbled in his haze to turn and stride back towards the onsen.

There was time for babies later, maybe. First, he had to see to his lover… He paused mid-step, causing Yuuri to throw a confused look over his shoulder back at him.

Oh.

He’d have to marry the other man first, of course. He smiled broadly – he was going to do that either way.

“Vitya?” “Nothing at all, love. Just thinking about the future.” Yuuri gave him another confused look but still laced their fingers together when Victor reached for him, and yes, their hands would definitely feel better with a ring on them, he decided.

They made it to Yuuri’s room in no time at all, and out of their clothes even faster.

* * *

An hour later, breathing a little hard – not as hard as Victor though, because he was dating an actual sex god, Yuuri poked him in the side. “Hm?” He wasn’t quite ready for words yet, his throat a bit… sore.

“For the record?” He nodded for Yuuri to go on.

“We’d have two. A son first, then a daughter. My mom always wanted a granddaughter.”

Victor rolled over and kissed him, uncaring that it was a bit sloppy – Yuuri was simply TOO perfect.


	6. Candy Canes... Or Poles?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor is extra and Yuuri makes a plan... They both end up happy!

So Yuuri had REALLY expected the delivered gifts to stop when Victor moved in with him. It was only for the off season for the time being but surely with him there, there would be no need...  
  
He stared down at the package that had arrived while Victor was at a local rink training, just to keep in shape.  
  
Spectacular shape it was, too.  
  
Yuuri opened the box carefully. It was medium sized and relatively light. He wasn't sure what to expect - all in all, the pair of thigh-high leather boots he found wasn't it.  
  
Victor had bought him shoes before - he had half a closet dedicated to his lover's appreciation of his legs and feet. These though, were different. For one thing, they were higher than usual - platforms. Higher than Yuuri was used to.  
  
They laced up and as he carefully slipped them on and pulled them up, he got the distinct impression that they were custom made - with the sheer size of his thighs, off the rack wouldn't have fit like that.  
  
It still wasn't THAT that startled him though... It was the recognition of the brand of the shoes. It wasn't a designer label or even one of those custom leather places... It was a company that specialised in high-end poledancing equipment.  
  
Now, Yuuri knew how to poledance, he'd learned in college, just for fun. VICTOR, however, did NOT know because if the man ever found out he'd never ever let Yuuri leave the bed again.  
  
There was something to be said for having a 20-something lover... Even with his above average stamina, he could only just keep up when Victor got it into his head to spend the day in bed.  
  
So no, he'd never told Victor. Yet, there they were, poledancing heels, out of nowhere. When his phone rang he picked up without needing to check - Victor.  
  
He'd probably found out the delivery had arrived.  
  
"Hello love, how are you?" "Wonderful Vitya. So, these shoes?" His lover laughed happily. "Oh they're just an idea I had... Maybe we could try it sometime? Together? A poledancing class? Yakov always tells me to strengthen my core..."  
  
Oh...  
  
"And you thought I might as well wrap myself around a pole in leather boots while you're at it?" His tone was amused but he could practically smell the concern in Victor's next words.  
  
"You don't have to if you don't want, it was really just an idea..." Yuuri smiled down at the boots. "Oh no, I think it's a great idea. A friend of mine is a pole instructor... We can set some up in the backroom of my studio and work there? I'm sure she'll give us some private lessons."  
  
His smile only grew when Victor wheezed a little. "Uh... Private lessons? Just you and me? And the teacher?" "Problem, Vitya?"  
  
After an awkwardly long pause, his lover cleared his throat.  
  
"No, no problem at all. I look forward to it. I should... get back to training." "Have FUN..." Yuuri purred into the phone, knowing full well that Victor was probably headed for the nearest bathroom stall and not the ice rink.  
  
Yuuri smiled down at his phone as his plan formed in his mind.   
  
He ended the call and then called his friend - she had been the one to teach him in the first place, and odds were he WAS a little rusty...  
  
Half an hour later, his plan was all set and Yuuri added the boots to his Victor-gifted collection - he wouldn't be needing them for a few weeks at least.  


* * *

  
The next four weeks Victor and Yuuri spent taking poledancing lessons once a week. Well, Yuuri did it twice a week, but Victor didn't know that.  
  
They practiced together, Yuuri mimicking the awkward movements of a beginner, their teacher keeping a remarkably straight face as she coached Victor through his genuine floundering alongside him. It was cute - even the angry embarrassment when Victor discovered that Yuuri was more 'talented' than him was adorable.   
  
In the second, secret class, he trained a routine, advanced level moves from start to finish. After a month, he was deemed ready by his teacher... And thus, the fun part of the plan could begin.  
  
It was easy, really, luring Victor to the studio after one of his practices. It wasn't even really luring, more of a casual request for him to stop by.  
  
Getting him to sit in a 'conveniently placed' chair had been as easy as smirking and pointing... And by the time he'd pulled out the red rope, Victor had been begging for him anyway.  
  
With his love tied to said chair, Yuuri left him there and quickly dashed out of the room, Victor too dazed to notice. He made quick work of changing his clothes - a pair of Victor's ridiculous bikini briefs were all he needed along side the heels - and put on the music he prepared in advance.  
  
Time to give Victor a show.  
  
Stepping into the room in those boots, he didn't miss the way it took Victor a few seconds to put two and two together. Yuuri saw the exact moment he did, timed it perfectly with the first touch to the pole. There were four set up in the small backroom to Yuuri's regular studio, but he needed only one.  
  
He let himself flow through the choreography, spinning and twisting around the pole before finally lifting himself up, climbing like he had been doing for weeks... in secret.   
  
Victor's breath hitched as he wrapped his thighs around the pole and arched backwards, just in time to catch the way Victor yanked on his restraints, tightly secured to the chair he had no leeway to move though. He wasn't about to get out.  
  
Spinning around the cold-but-warming metal, he found himself showing off outrageously, dimly wondering if that was what skating for him felt like to Victor. If so, he rather thought he finally... got it.  
  
Tilting himself away from the pole he released it with both arms, held in place by his legs.  
  
Winking at Victor - a move he shamelessly stole from the man when it suited him, he relaxed his thighs, sliding down the pole and catching himself just in time.  
  
Victor sucked in a deep breath and quietly moaned Yuuri's name.  
  
As suddenly as it had begun, he found himself losing interest in the pole performance, found himself wanting to be closer to Victor. Though he never finished the dance, he gracefully dismounted and practically stalked to his lover, straddling his lap easily, thigh-high boots wrapped around Victor's middle and holding him on the chair, against his lover.   
  
He could feel the other man against him, could feel the trembling in his body, the way his hard shaft was practically begging to be touched.  
  
Unfortunately for Victor, there was another dance skill Yuuri had that he suddenly felt like showing off - with a teasing smile he leaned back, arched his back and rolled his hips to the beat of the rhythm.  
  
Victor was cursing under his breath, filthy Russian swearwords falling from his otherwise so polite lips and Yuuri loved every single one of them because Victor only cursed when he was struggling to hold himself back.  
  
Yuuri was so not going to help him. Instead, he leaned further back, arms supporting him on the ground as he raised his hips before casually - at least he hoped it looked casual - swinging back up and grinding down just so.  
  
Feeling the heat rise within himself as well, Yuuri abandoned the pretense of a lapdance and took his lover's mouth in a deep kiss, one that left them both breathless, both desperate for the other.  


* * *

  
Passing out on the solid hardwood flooring of a dance studio was hell on his back, Yuuri knew that. He'd napped there before, on occasion, and always regretted it. With a firm, beautiful and fucked-out Russian pillow, it was the best rest he ever got.  
  
Rolling off Victor woke him, the other man groaning a little. "Yuuuuuri... I can't believe you didn't tell me you knew how to poledance."  
  
He snickered. "I can't believe you bought me those leather boots in the hopes that I'd learn." Victor pouted.  
  
"You could have just worn them normally and I'd have liked them." "Oh so you didn't like THIS?" Victor groaned, pulling their bodies flush together.  
  
"Of course I did! I do! I just... Oh god I can't believe you let me make a fool of myself in front of you for a month."  
  
"Well at least now you know... And now I can teach you." Victor pressed a kiss to Yuuri's neck. "Mhm... Just not alone. We won't get anything done that way. It was hard enough to not rip your clothes off when your friend was here."  
  
Yuuri laughed. "Naked poledancing? That'd be something, right?" Victor gave him a goofy grin, the kind that was always followed by a terrible, terrible pun.  
  
"Well in that case, the only pole I'd be dancing on would be yo-" He slapped a hand over Victor's mouth to stop him from finishing the sentence, cringing at the part he'd already heard.  
  
"Though, I suppose, that would be a core workout too, if we do it right? Want to clear it with Yakov?"  
  
An indignant squeak against his hand was the only answer he got. 


End file.
